Bad Santa
by chips2
Summary: One shot Christmas 'Special'.  Brendan dreams a dream that is very different to reality...  I know, it's not an 'M!


**This is a Happy Christmas to all the Stendan fans out there. Fingers crossed 2012 gives us some more memorable moments of the most dysfunctional couple in gay soap history!**

**Dedicated to Toast (!)**

**...**

**_Christmas Day..._**

It was Christmas day and the middle of the night. It was cold outside but toasty warm in the office of _Chez Chez_. Nat King Cole's version of a Christmas Song played in the background as part of the local radio station's two hour-long Christmas medley.

_Merry fucking Christmas_, You thought to yourself as you sat behind your desk, leaning back in your chair. You took a sip out of your glass of _Baileys_; Irish whiskey, cream, a blend of secret herbs and sugar. A little too sweet for your liking but you supposed the season called for it.

You were waiting for your guest. Your late unsuspecting guest. You would have never admitted it but you had given this whole thing a lot more thought than you would ever let on. The timing. The message. The sign on the office door. The Santa hat. The present. The finger food that you had already made a decent start on and the second empty glass on the other side of the desk...

You watched the blinking, garish decorative lights on the fake Christmas tree with fake snow sprayed on it that Cheryl had set up a couple of weeks ago in the office.

Suddenly, you reconsidered your plan. On reflection it seemed stupid and lame. Un-Brady-like.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

You were about to clear up and pack up when the door opened slowly, tentatively.

"Brendan?"

Stephen's head peered around the corner of the open door.

Too late. He was here.

The lad pointed at the handwritten sign on the door. "Did you write this?"

The corner of his mouth twitched with barely repressed humour.

It read,

_Bad Santa's Grotto_.

You leaned back into your chair, cool as a cucumber. The King of the Castle sat in your throne. You raised an eyebrow, pointed at your head with an index finger and drawled,

"Ho. Ho. Ho. Young Stephen."

Stephen grinned broadly and closed the door behind him. He looked with wide eyes at the red hat with fluffy white trimming and a white bobble at the end that was perched on your head. It was juxtaposed against your usual attire of a well tailored grey suit, open collar crisp white shirt with your trusted gold crucifix peeking through.

He walked up to you confidently.

"What are you doing, Brendan?" He said, part amused, part confused. This was not a side of Brendan Brady he knew. He took in the food, the drink, the attire. He grabbed a pig-in-a-blanket and started munching.

"Who's Brendan?" You replied deadpan. "I'm Santa Claus."

Stephen laughed out right. "You're mad, you! When you sent me that text message asking me to come here in the dead of night I thought it were some kind of emergency not just to mess me about!"

_00.05, December 25th, 2011_

_Stephen. I need you at the club. Now._

You shrugged unapologetically then lightly patted your thigh.

"Come sit on Santa's knee, Stephen." You looked at your employee with a cheeky grin. The lad was well wrapped up (too wrapped up for your liking) to guard against the cold winter night. Ski hat, ear muffs, thick scarf, a large bomber jacket, jeans and heavy duty gloves cocooned his body. His pink cheeked rosy face was the only bit of exposed skin. "And you can lose the layers."

Stephen looked hesitant. "No." He said regretfully. "I've got to get home, haven't I? I was finishing off wrapping presents before the kids wake up in the morning."

"You'll be back home in time."

"You sure?"

You grinned. "Would Santa ever lie?"

Stephen grinned back and slowly took off his outerwear. You smirked at the reindeer jumper the lad was wearing underneath.

"Nice." You said sarcastically.

"What!" Stephen looked down at the gaudy knitwear. Sheepishly he said, "Amy got it me three years ago. It's a tradition."

You indicated for Ste to come closer and he obeyed. Your hand gently gripped his waist and guided him to sit across your lap. You rested it gently on the curve of his arse cheek feeling the coolness of his clothes through yours. He would warm up soon enough with the help of your body heat and the ambient temperature.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and looked down at you in amusement.

"So, young man, what's your name?"

Stephen leaned into your ear and breathed, "Stephen Hay."

"And how old are you, Stephen?"

"Twenty." He adjusted himself in your lap and gave you a shy smile. "I think I'm too old for this, Bren. This is silly."

"Says the boy with the reindeer sweater!" You guffawed.

He huffed. "Okay fine. Let's get this over with. I don't know what's got into you tonight!"

You grinned, satisfied. There was a reason behind you doing all this. You were sure that part of his embarrassment and awkwardness was because this was something he had never experienced as a child; being paid special attention at Christmas. You planned to change all that now.

xxx

_**Two weeks to Christmas...**_

"_Bren..."_

"_Yep." _

"_So I've got the turkey, the mince pies, the tree, the presents, the Christmas CD. It's all sorted apart from the wrapping up! Amy, Leah and Lucas are going to get the best Christmas ever!" Stephen said to you._

_You took in his animated face, made even more youthful by his excitement. "Sounds good." You drawled. "But what do you get out of it?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_What are you getting for Christmas?"_

_He frowned as if it was a stupid question. "It doesn't matter, does it? It's not about taking. It's about giving, innit? I didn't really celebrate it when I were growing up, anyway. No time and that. I don't mind. I'm used to it. It will just be great to see their faces!"_

xxx

After hearing that, you figured you would give Stephen a slice of what Christmas should have been like for him growing up; going to Santa's grotto, being allowed to live a fantasy if only for a day, getting a present. The tonguing, pawing, and inappropriate touching that were sure to follow in your version of the grotto weren't part of the usual experience but then this _was_ the adult 'Bad Santa' version...

"So have you been a good boy this year?" You asked, tongue and cheek as he settled comfortably into your lap curling an arm loosely over your shoulder.

Stephen bit his lower lip, considering the question seriously.

_Cute_, you thought. He was properly getting into it.

"Yeah. Mostly. Like, I tried but there was the time Warren asked me to deliver a dodgy parcel for him to some bloke. But this guy called Brendan stopped me and did it for me."

He touched his forehead to yours massaging the back of your neck with his fingers.

"S'okay. Doesn't count. Wasn't your fault, that." You said, tempted to kiss him but knowing it was too soon. "What else?"

"I got my fake girlfriend pregnant." He whispered warm breath over your lips.

"Yeah, I know." You said.

"We lost the baby." He squeezed you to him as if seeking comfort.

"I'm sorry, Stephen." You kissed him gently. Shit. When did this turn serious?"But that wasn't your fault either."

He nodded slowly. "Maybe it was better that way. You know. It was all wrong, me and her." He shuffled in your lap again and leaned back to observe you better. "And there is one more bad thing I did."

"What's that?"

"I dumped my boyfriend."

You raised a curious eyebrow.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah." He nodded sombrely. "I wanted to get him jealous and I was tired of how he was treating me."

"How did he treat you?" You say slowly, holding your breath in anticipation of what he was about to say about your time together before your last break up... before you got together again. You knew that you had done him wrong. You regretted your actions; your coldness to him, your violence. You had been a dick.

"He took me for granted, Santa. He wasn't good at showing me he cared. So I figured that he didn't. Care. About me. You know?"

You blinked. He bit his lip. You stroked his back.

He continued to speak.

"So I left him so I could be with someone who would care for me."

You broke character then. Bad Santa became Brendan Brady for a moment. You didn't want to hear about the gym bunny. Not now. Not while you were sharing a moment with Stephen, just you and him.

"Don't talk about Noah." You whispered, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

"I wasn't going to, Santa." Stephen said with a smirk, sensing your jealousy. "I was going to say that I realised when I was apart from my boyfriend that I actually missed him loads. Plus he really liked me. Still does. Like, a lot!"

He winked at you.

"I wouldn't go overboard." You rolled your eyes at the heavens but gripped him closer to you. "Your boyfriend thinks you're alright."

"Shurrup!" He shoved you lightly so you gave his arse a squeeze. "Now he is so much better at showing me how great he thinks I am, Santa!"

"Does he now?" You smiled and gently nipped at his earlobe then down his jaw.

"Brendan! Gerroff!"

"Name's Bad Santa." You mumbled into his neck.

"I don't think Santa is supposed to do this in his grotto." He replied thickly, opening his neck out to allow you better access. "Plus, aren't you married and everything? To Mrs. Santa."

"Is that so?" You whispered then sucked on his neck and licked at the fluttering pulse there.

"Um hum." He licked his lips enticingly. "You are cheating on your missus."

"The missus and I have an understanding." You grinned into his neck.

"Doesn't that make me a bad boy?"

"No. I think that makes you very, very good." You pulled him into a kiss; letting go, tasting him, battling your tongues, trying to conquer him. Your hands ran the length and breadth of his body, burrowing under the ugly thick sweater to feel his now warmer, smooth skin. He, in turn, moulded himself to you, grinding down on your groin, making you get aroused through his actions and sounds. His desperate keening sounds.

"So Stephen..." You murmured when you pulled away breathlessly.

"Yes, Santa." He sighed.

"What do you want for Christmas?"

He laughed lightly. "Um. Can I have anything in the whole wide world?"

You cocked your head to one side in curiosity. "Depends."

"It's just, that what I want is quite big." He said with a smile.

You thrust up to him revealing your hard-on, causing him to giggle.

"Not that, you perv!" He gave you a quick peck then whispered something into your ear and wrapped his arms around you at the same time. You pulled back and stared at him, registering his nearly silent whisper.

Your face must have spoken a thousand words.

"It's okay. Don't panic." He gave you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm being silly. Forget it. I told you it was big."

"I think it is time for your present." You said quietly. You handed him the gift that had been sitting on the table. It was in a box the shape and size of a shoe box.

He stared at you while shaking it to get a clue about what it held within.

"What is it?"

"Open it." You said holding your breath as he excitedly tore at the wrapping.

He opened the box and his face dropped. There was an envelope at the bottom. You held back a smile at the deceptive packaging. He opened the envelope carefully and took out what was within. It took him a moment to assimilate what he was staring at.

He looked between his gift and you once or twice as the smile on his face got bigger and bigger.

"Seriously?"

You were unsuccessful in keeping a cool expression. His joy was infectious. You nodded. "If you want. No promise of better weather, though."

"I don't care about the weather. This is-" He kissed the heck out of you. "-amazing! Thank you! It is like you knew what was in my head!"

With the way he was molesting you, you figured you were in for a healthy rewarding dose of 'how's your father'!

"Yeah." You said. He had whispered that all he wanted was for you to feel like a 'proper, normal couple where you can get the family round and everything'. A ticket to Dublin to join you while you saw your boys was a pretty good gift then.

You pawed at him trying to get him out of his clothes but your efforts were thwarted away. He jumped off your lap suddenly and quickly put his outerwear on again.

"Uh, what are you doing? Where are you going?" You asked in disappointment.

He grinned at you. "If we are flying out to Ireland in a couple of days for a week to meet your family, I want to spend every single minute of the next two days with me kids."

He headed for the door.

"Hey!" You called after him, feeling a mild panic rising. _FAMILY?_ "This is not some formal 'Stephen, meet me family, family, meet Stephen my..."

"Boyfriend?" Stephen said cheekily. "That I sleep with..."

You felt queasy at the thought of your mother getting a visual of the two of your together like that.

_Jesus, what have I done?_ You thought.

He threw you an air kiss and you couldn't help but smile. "I'll call you tomorrow, yeah? Happy Christmas, Bad Santa. Thank you for the ticket. This has been the best Christmas ever." He looked at the wall clock. _01.20._ "And it has only just begun."

You looked at him and felt a sense of calm wash over you. There. Mission accomplished. You gave Stephen a Christmas he would remember.

"Happy Christmas, Stephen."

xxx

**_Christmas Day..._**

Dublin. You were on a two week long holiday back home to visit your boys for Christmas.

You woke up feeling dejected on the day itself with the remnants of a dream involving Baileys, flight tickets to Dublin and Stephen in your arms still fresh in your mind.

You got up and tried calling him three times over the space of an hour knowing that he would be awake and with Amy and his kids. He didn't answer any of your calls just like he didn't answer them when you were back in Hollyoaks.

When it turned to his answer phone the third time you decided to leave a message but your words got stuck in your throat so dead air filled the space where your voice should have been and you eventually ended the call.

It had been months since you and Stephen had been together in anything resembling a relationship and while you saw him practically every day at the club as his employer, he treated you with the muted politeness of a stranger. You had fucked up one too many times and he had had enough. No more second, third or fourth chances.

He never wanted you back and you understood his distance on most days but not on a day like today. A day that was normally filled with laughter, family, merriment and love. You struggled to accept his decision on a day like today. You felt that maybe his heart would soften and that he would reconsider.

But no. That was not to be. So you threw the present you had for him in the bin and kicked a trash can across your temporary bedroom in your ex-wife's home.

Cheryl popped her head in a few moments later, concern creasing her face as she took in your wild eyes and the firm hold you had of your phone. "You trying to reach Ste?"

"No."

"Love, come downstairs. The boys and Eileen are up and waiting to open their presents."

You nodded. You hated the look of worry in her eyes.

"Maybe when we get back to Hollyoaks you could, you know, talk to him."

You lightly squeezed her shoulder. Bless her. Always the romantic. Never the realist.

"Yeah. Maybe."


End file.
